Review Time: Daisy Jones & The Six

“I had absolutely no interest in being somebody else’s muse. I am not a muse. I am the somebody. End of fucking story.”

Daisy Jones & The Six are rock ‘n’ roll. They are the embodiment of cool, of depth, of intrigue. Brothers Billy and Graham Dunne started The Six in the early days of the ’70s. Daisy Jones, natural talent and groupie extraordinaire, made her way into The Six’s fold in 1977, changing the course of rock ‘n’ roll forever.

Billy Dunne and Daisy Jones were born to sing together. To perform together. To be together. They made beautiful music together. But that doesn’t mean they had to like each other. They sang songs about Billy’s love for his wife, of Daisy’s love of the drug of the day. They loved each other, and they hated each other. The band enjoyed a reign of world dominance throughout most of the ’70s, and then one day, after a sold-out concert in Chicago, never returned to the stage. Told from the voice of everyone who had a hand in making Daisy Jones & The Six the preeminent band of the era, this is a story of art, of fame, of redemption, of life, of loss, of heartbreak. It’s the story of life, lived by some of the most famous people on the planet.

First and foremost, I have to say that Daisy Jones & The Six was PHENOMENAL. I had to stop midway through the book to find out if these people were real, that’s how convincing the dialogue is. I don’t think there’s a way to convey how truly unique this book is. It’s every Netflix documentary you’ve watched, every documentary you’ve loved, in book format. You want to be each person in this story — Daisy, Billy, Karen, Graham, Camila, Simone. They all have that ’70s glamor, that carefree rock ‘n’ roll attitude that seems so alluring. It’s an incredible behind-the-scenes look into what it takes to make the music that formed — and continues to be — the background of our lives.

Rumors are that the story was influenced by the relationship between rock ‘n’ roll gods Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. And after reading this book, I’m really kind of upset that I wasn’t alive during Fleetwood Mac’s reign of dominance to witness the “are-they-or-aren’t-they” that grips you during the entirety of this story. Taylor Jenkins Reid, author of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, is two for two in my book. And that’s all there is to it.

My favorite scene: I know this is cheating, but THE WHOLE FREAKING THING. Just do yourself a favor and read this in a weekend. You won’t regret it. Not even for a second.